


Henry the Houseplant

by my_dear_man



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Requited Love, an oc houseplant, just something i made out of fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_dear_man/pseuds/my_dear_man
Summary: A potted houseplant has his own thoughts about this whole 'thing' going on with Crowley when he comes home one day with an ugly thermostat in his hands.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Henry the Houseplant

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something. I really love the Good Omens book's tone and writing style and I had a bit of influence from other books I'm currently reading which has the same vibe. It was really fun to write this though!

Henry has been under Master Crowley's care for nearly 50 years, longer than any other dozens of exotic houseplants kept in the flat and, by some miracle, he is still alive and thriving. In fact, he is Master Crowley's first houseplant. Ever since he was a wee sprout, picked up from the local nursery and raised (quite sternly) by Master Crowley himself. He is a proud little _Calathea_ or as some green thumb enthusiast would call him a _'Prayer Plant',_ but as far as anyone was concerned, Henry was not really the religious type. 

If he really must live up to his awful nickname, would worshipping Master Crowley be seen as a religion? He was sure it does in some small parts of England where satanist nuns were the new norm. Henry loathed admitting that he adores Master Crowley and would go as far as to say that he loves him. Despite the popular opinions of what his other houseplant mates thought about their cold-blooded ruler, Henry knew deep down in all his six lushes purple-green leaves that Master Crowley cared for every single pot in the flat. 

Yes, his Master can be cruel when his temper goes up in flames. Yes, Henry will admit that Master Crowley has odd methods of making homemade compose while threatening to mix it with bleach should the plants ever started to droop. Yes, Master Crowley can be emotionally distant and sometimes he behaves the exact opposite which confuses Henry (and his potted friends) to no end. 

Henry loves his Master all the same. For a commonplace _Calathea_ , he notices things about Master Crowley that none of his friends would really bother to address.

He remembers one day which stood out the most in his green memory. It was the year 1967 and people at that time seemed to dress funny for no particular reason. Music became the hot stuff of that year for no particular reason. Then again, humans do a lot of things for no particular reason like keeping houseplants when obviously plants were meant to stay outdoors.

Master Crowley came home one night, clutching a tacky looking bottle. He walked up to his desk and placed the bottle gently as one would set down a ticking bomb. Master Crowley took his usual place on his grand chair but not before tearing away his glasses and throwing it against the wall in a fit of anger. The plants were already quacking in fear because they knew how Master Crowley took out his frustration on them. He sat down just to stand back up. He threw everything off the desk just to pick them up again. Defeated and tired, Master Crowley walked up to the rows of his lushes houseplants and, without too much thought, picked up Henry by the pot. He placed Henry on the table, next to that dreaded bottle. Master Crowley sat down with a long sigh, his yellow serpent eyes staring at the ceiling, then at the bottle, and finally at Henry. He covered his face with his hands and started talking endlessly from there with a tone that hinted of his weariness.

"Too fast? What did he mean by that? I can't be going that fast? It's been what? A good few centuries? I'm not even keeping count anymore after humans taught themselves to milk cows. Stupid. That bloody angel. Saying those things to me. Stupid." Henry listened (like he always does), but he doesn't quite understand. Going too fast? An angel? Milking cows? Master Crowley, as if he could hear the thoughts of the little confused plant, stopped talking and started to tell him from the Beginning.

"I reckon you haven't the slightest idea what I'm rambling about. My fault, sadly. Well, since you're already here, Henry. Let me tell you 'bout this angel that I met in Eden."

So Henry listened. Slowly but surely, he began to place the pieces together with the little information he had, told in a fashion that made it fairly hard to decipher. Master Crowley has habits of going into unnecessary tangents. Thankfully, Henry came to a well-thought conclusion.

He's helplessly in love!

The kind of unrequited love pregnant with all the unspoken endearments and poetry, bottled away and locked shut for centuries and centuries before finally saying to yourself, _'I've had quite enough of this torture!'_ Yet, the very idea of laying out your feelings on the table like it were cheese on a cheese platter was not the best approach you want, so you decided the tempting swaying of hips and paying for every meal at the Ritz should do just as well. And maybe, if you wait long enough, that person you've fallen for will eventually notice the soft glances and lopsided smiles you've been secretly giving him at the table.

That sort of love.

It's not the sort of thing demons were supposed to do, much less with an angel. Or vice versa. 

"He gave me this," said Crowley as his hands traced across the tartan thermostat but still remaining cautious of it. "He went all the trouble for this silly thing. Technically, I asked for it. For personal matters which is none of your concern."

None of this should be any of Henry's concern but it was _Crowley_. So, it was already concerning to see him in such a pathetic state. He suddenly wished that he had limbs or a mouth, something that would convey to his Master that went something along the lines of, _'Aziraphale might have an inkling of what's going on between the two of you, and he's not that clueless to have missed those not-so-subtle invitations and suggestions you've been making for the last decades. So, I'm certain you'll finally get inside his pants one day.'_

Crowley might not have liked the feedback but the good intentions were there, at least.

Well, in any way, Henry was right, but not about getting into his pants bit.

Years passed and the 21st century rolled in on time. There was this whole predicament about the world ending (which Master Crowley would not stop screaming about), fish raining from the sky, massive earthquakes, a giant Kraken, the recent discovery of Atlantis, etc. It was all very confusing but somehow, by unsuspecting chance, everything went back to normal as if the world had rewritten itself in a hasty manner by a 12-year-old boy and his friends.

The last thing Henry expected after Armaggeddon was Master Crowley to bring home the angel himself. Secretly, he was very proud of Crowley for finally doing so. As soon as Aziraphale stepped into the room, the plants noticed instantly. There was no way in Hell or Heaven that a creature of pure light could just waltz into a room and leave undetected by the houseplants. The angel was a walking sun and the plants would appreciate it if he stayed for a few hours longer. 

"I've always wanted to see them, Crowley. You always mentioned that you kept houseplants but I would never have guessed they looked so beautiful. You have talent, my dear!"

"Nonsense, I just keep them in check. I don't cheat, by the way. No miracles of any sort. I know how easy it is for you. You can walk on a patch of grass and they pop right up in full bloom."

Aziraphale touched every pot of plant on that night, admiring and praising them to Heaven above on their lush and healthy leaves. The plants were blushing with pride. It even affected Henry who was immune to flattery. Soon, the houseplants who lived in constant fear and anxiety were glowing with health, fueled by the kindness of this strange being.

The praises didn't last very long when the angel's eyes fell abruptly upon an empty tartan thermostat on the floor. Next to it lay a bucket and a pile of putrid clothes. Henry saw Master Crowley tensed in front of him. A quick snap and everything was gone. The room fell silent in an awkward way you would feel waiting with a person inside a slow elevator. 

"I supposed you didn't intend to use it on yourself?"

"N-No. Of course not. I just had to get two idiots off my back." Henry saw the whole thing happened and it was one messy business. The short demon was gone but the taller one will surely want revenge for his friend's death. Crowley moved closer to Aziraphale, unsure of where this conversation was leading him. Aziraphale turned suddenly, gripping the demon's hands which caught him completely off guard. Henry could see Master Crowley shaking like a leaf.

"You must be mad at me still."

"About what exactly?" Crowley wished time would have just stopped right then and there. 

Aziraphale became increasingly flustered as he tried his best to place the right words into a proper sentence but it felt next to impossible when everything he says falls apart. There must be no room for misunderstandings, not again. Not ever. Henry believed that the drama shows on Channel 4 were less painful to watch than this. 

"Oh, I don't know?! For everything. For being stupid enough to leave you like that. For being stubborn and yelling at you. For every moment I never gave you this."

When they kissed, it was the least romantic thing Henry has ever seen. It was more of a chaste brushing of lips rather than the passion-driven kiss people would expect from people like Crowley and Aziraphale. You would be expecting that sigh of relief as they continued exploring each other's mouths, tangling their limbs in a frenzy and the unmistakable unbuttoning of shirts and waistcoats. That was not the case. In fact, Aziraphale spent the next few minutes apologizing profusely over it while Crowley hid his scarlet face behind his hands, incapable of comprehending the pinnacle of his existence.

They came around eventually. Crowley took off his glasses. His eyes took on its original form, wide-eyes and golden yellow which left Aziraphale worried. He cupped his hands around Crowley's face, pleading for his forgiveness at this point.

"Please, I'm so sorr-"

"Angel, you did nothing wrong. I just never thought this day would arrive. I just thought I was _going too fast._ " Crowley, hesitant at first, wrapped his arms around the angel's waist.

"My dear. I-I never meant it like that. Well, partially. I knew from _that_ very moment, Crowley. I never felt like I was ready for it."

"Are you ready now?"

Henry knew the answer would be yes. There was no other way around it. Henry hoped that this was not the last time Aziraphale would be staying over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, give it some kudos on your way out. <3
> 
> Fun fact! I'm actually a Muslim and in Islamic beliefs, angels are said to have massive wings. If they opened one of their wings, half of the world would go dark. If they opened both of their wings, the entire world would fall into darkness. They also have certain jobs too like arranging when rain is going to pour and ironically, summoning the end of the world. The more you know, folks.


End file.
